Fall From Grace
by fieldagent85
Summary: A young Abbey meets youthful priest Jed Bartlet and their friendship quickly grows into something more. AU, preadministration. UPDATED July 11th!
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: I am writing this story as an amateur. There's no way I'm going to get all the details after life as a priest right. There's just no way. This story isn't about the details, it's about the plot and the characters, and the writing. That said, I would appreciate it if you would keep that in mind. Thanks.

Chapter One

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perserveres.

"Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

May, 1969 Andover, Massachusetts

Within the four walls of the dimly lit room, there was a flimsy bed, a wooden chair, a desk, and a small closet. The bible on the desk was worn and tarnished, but the words it boasted inside were glowing on the pages. The pages were warm to the touch, ignited by a higher power, a spirit which dwelled peacefully in the hearts of those who believed. Josiah Edward Bartlet was one such person. His heart provided a home for the holy spirit, and the holy spirit provided a home for his heart just the same. A mutual love he had grown to depend on and seek out in times of trouble. He had known little of love throughout his childhood and, subsequently, his maturity. He believed in what he could not see, fueled by his determination and resolute faith. To Jed, his faith was his own motivation. Seeing is not believing, he would say. Believing is seeing. The more time he spent justifying his faith and depending on his conviction, the sooner he would be privileged enough to behold the powerful, all-knowing being he had trusted in all these years, without faltering.  
Though the plain, plastered ceiling held no great interest for him, Jed continued to lay on his bed staring up at it. While calm and placid he did appear, inside he was as restless as a tumbleweed in the desert. This was not to say he was unhappy, because nothing could be further from the truth. He loved his small room at the church. He loved his flimsy bed, his wooden chair, his desk, his small closet, and his old, worn-out bible. Considering his options, there was no place he would rather be. He pictured his father back home in Manchester, reading the newspaper, listening to the news via radio (nothing but the old-fashioned way would do), and consuming glass after glass of his preferred brandy. He pictured his mother at home, sewing, cooking, cleaning, essentially seen and not heard. He pictured his brother at college, studying, partying, enjoying life away from home. He pictured his best friend, soaring the skies over Vietnam in fighter planes and defending the United States. Beyond that, he had no one to picture. Four pictures in his museum, strategically hung along the walls, hallow#d and glorified.  
A terse knock on the door caused his silent reverie to burst like a bubble above his head. He sat up abruptly and stood, approaching the door stealthily.

"Paul, hi."

Father Paul Norwood was a few years older than Jed, but had become a trusted friend during the short months he had been at St. Andrew's.

"Jed."

"What can I do for you?"

"Father McDevitt would like to see you in the rectory," Paul announced.

"He'd like to see me? Do you know why?"

"I believe he wants your input on this Sunday's sermon."

Jed laughed uneasily.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Jed smiled gratefully and stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him with one last look at the lonely furniture and the room's one redeeming quality- the antiquated bible on the desk.

"Oh, God, make it go away."

Abigail Bennett stood in the bathroom of her childhood home, hunched over the sink. She held her head up, her eyes burning into the unwelcomed image of herself in the mirror. She stared into her own eyes until they began to water, then she shook her head furiously, quickly averting her eyes from the mirror. With one snap of the wrist, she turned the faucet on and watched as the water began pouring out at a rapid pace. She positioned her hands under the rushing water and cupped them, allowing the water to fill them like a bowl. She leaned down further and splashed the freezing water onto her face, then examined the black mascara join forces with the water and drizzle down her cheeks, leaving dark stains as they went.  
Abbey gazed at her reflection once more, allowing the water that had washed over her face to cleanse her soul as well. She was focused now, though not quite healed. The moment she heard footsteps outside, she quickly checked to make sure she had locked the door. As expected, the man behind the footsteps began to pound on the door urgently. Words were inevitably spilling out of his mouth, but she could decipher not one single syllable. She felt her limbs go numb and leaned back against the wall, her body sliding down until she hit the cold, linoleum tiles on the floor. She shivered as the icy sensation spread throughout her, then pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them protectively. She closed her eyes, restraining the tears that were beginning to be released. The pounding on the door continued, as did the persistance of the tears. The moment the knocking ceased, one hot, stinging, solitary tear glided down her cheek smoothly. She opened her eyes and granted access to the army of tears that had been waited rather impatiently to assail the enemy.  
So far, the relaxing summer vacation she had envisioned was an absolute disaster.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this The fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her She tied you To a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain I don't even know the name But if I did, well really, what's it to you? There's a blaze of light In every word It doesn't matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you And even though It all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

"Hallelujah," by Leonard Cohen 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The intricacies of the lock were clearly understood by Michael Bennett. It wasn't long before he had developed a scheme to outwit them. The lock was no match for a simple hairpin from his sister's stash combined with his own intelligence and unparalleled reason. Sleight of hand and twist of wrist, and the spell was removed. He returned the hairpin to his shirt pocket and slowly turned the knob. To his complete and utter surprise, the door did not make a single sound, and made no effort to disturb the sleeping beauty sprawled across the tiled floor.  
Michael kneeled down on the floor beside her and gently pressed a hand to her bare shoulder. She stirred ever so slightly, illustrating only the vaguest signs of life.

"Abbey," he whispered, his voice kind and gentle, a considerable contrast from his tone the evening before. "Abbey, you have to wake up. Sooner or later, someone's gonna want to come in here and take a crap, and I'm fairly certain you don't want to be around for that."

With her eyes still closed, she yawned and stretched out her arms lethargically. She then rolled over and looked at her brother head on.

"Hi."

"Hey there," Michael replied, softly still.

"I slept here all night?"

He nodded.

"You locked yourself in here last night. Ron spent twenty minutes trying to coax you out, but eventually he just gave up. I gotta hand it to ya, sis, you don't make it easy for that guy. He's certainly got his hands full with you."

"No, he doesn't," Abbey dissented, her voice hoarse and laced with sleep. "Because my life is not in his hands."

"Who's hands is it in then?"

"I don't know. God's?"

"Well, I'm not prepared to argue with that, so I'll accept it. Meanwhile, what the hell is going on with you!" Michael questioned.

Abbey sighed and lifted herself up, leaning against the wall.

"I'm fine."

"Abbey, you locked yourself in the bathroom and cried yourself to sleep. You're not fine."

"How do you know I cried myself to sleep?"

"You're not as clever as you think you are, sweetheart. The mascara-stained cheeks were a dead giveaway."

"You weren't supposed to notice that," Abbey said, touching her cheek self-consciously.

"Abbey, Helen Keller would have noticed that!"

"You're not making me feel better, Michael."

"All right, I'm sorry. Talk to me."

Abbey shook her head and pushed herself off the ground, struggling to maintain her balance. He followed her to a standing position and watched, dejected, as she walked away from him. Despite her indifference toward him, he pursued her into her bedroom and shut the door. She dropped down onto her bed, exhaustedly, and he sat beside her.

"Michael."

"You're not getting off that easy," Michael said.

"I'm fine."

"Why do you keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" Abbey asked, defensively.

"Shutting people out. You've been doing it to Ron for the past few weeks, and he's been nothing but a perfect gentleman. He's been in love with you, for what, four years now? He's watched you date other people and waited patiently for his turn. A few months ago, you seemed to really like him. What's wrong?"

"Why are you sticking up for Ron so passionately, Michael? If I'm not mistaken, you used to loathe him."

"I feel bad for the guy. He's crazy about you and you keep blowing him off. So tell me what this is all about."

"You tried to kill yourself six months ago. Who are you to judge me!" Abbey exclaimed.

"Abbey, I am not judging you. I'm trying to help you. I don't want to see you end up like me."

"I don't think Mom would have liked Ron," she whispered.

"Oh, Christ, Abbey, tell me this isn't about Mom. It's been nearly three years."

"She wouldn't have liked him at all."

"Okay," Michael said, standing up suddenly. "I'm going to get Dad."

"No!" Abbey exclaimed. "No."

"Abbey, you need to talk to someone. If you're not going to talk to me, then you need to talk to Dad."

"It's just going to upset him."

"No, it's not."

"Please, Michael," Abbey pleaded. "I'll do anything you ask, just don't tell Dad."

Michael hesitated, chewing on his lower lip- a nervous habit he had never been able to give up.

"Dad's going to want you to come to church with him this morning."

Abbey glanced up at him, confusion plain in her green eyes, that were always glistening from tears.

"I haven't been to church since…since Mom died."

"All the more reason for Dad to want you to go."

"Okay." She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine, I'll go."

"Good. Let me know how it is when you get back."

"Michael!" Abbey exclaimed. "You have to come!"

"If I set one foot in that church, I think the whole place will burn down."

"You're not leaving me alone with Dad and Nan, Michael. No way, no how."

"Michelle's going."

"Well, sure," Abbey replied. "God loves Michelle!"

Michael laughed.

"God loves you too, Abbey."

"What about Julia?"

"Are you kidding? You're more likely to get me in there than Julia!" Michael replied. "Listen, it won't be so bad. You used to love going to church!"

"Yeah," Abbey said. "That was before God killed my mom."

Alone in his small room, Jed Bartlet sat at his desk, reading Father McDevitt's sermon with interest. He had been asked to proofread it, for reasons passing Jed's own understanding. He was flattered, of course, but that didn't ease his confusion. If Jed had been a nun, he would have been a novice, and he didn't figure proofreading sermons was something novices usually did.

The sermon focused on the subject of what Father McDevitt referred to as 'spiritual warfare.' He said the angels of God and the angels of Satan battle each other in an invisible war. Angels seem to have rank. Daniel's 'major' angel was stopped by an enemy 'colonel' angel, until 'general' Michael appeared. He said Satan assigns angels to nations. The angel assigned to Persia was called 'the prince of the Persian kingdom.' The bible, however, focuses on things that are more important for human beings, like how to trust God and live in ways that please him. Father McDevitt says the congregation will learn all they need to know about angels when they get to heaven.

Jed enjoyed reading the sermon, and deemed it well-written and organized. Father McDevitt would certainly be pleased, as he seemed to value Jed's opinion greatly. He was about to go find Father and tell him so, when the door opened and Father Paul Norwood stuck his head in yet again.

"Jed. There's someone here to see you."

"Really?" Jed asked. "I can't think of who it would be."

Regardless, Jed followed Father Norwood to Father McDevitt's office in the rectory. Father McDevitt was sitting at his desk, talking with a petite older woman who sat before him.

"Mom!"

Catherine Bartlet stood, smiling brightly, at the sight of her oldest son.

"Josiah."

She threw her arms around him, as Fathers Norwood and McDevitt observed them with a smile.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Jed asked, not upset, but curious nonetheless.

"Do you chatise a mother for visiting her son?" Catherine asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No, of course not, Mom. That's not what I meant."

"Then what, pray tell, did you mean?"

"Well, it's a good one hour drive from Manchester, Mother."

"And worth every mile!"

Father McDevitt cleared his throat awkwardly and lead Father Norwood to the door.

"We'll leave you two alone."

"Thank you, Father," Jed said, his head turned to watch them as they exited the room.

"How are you, darling?" Catherine asked, taking his hands in hers.

"I'm good, Mom. How are you?"

"Oh, fine, fine."

"Dad's not with you, is he?" Jed questioned, nervously.

"No, no, no. I wouldn't do that to you."

"He didn't even want to come, did he?"

"Sweetheart, he doesn't know!" Catherine said.

"He doesn't know? How did you get that past him?"

"Oh, he thinks I'm visiting your grandmother in Groton. He's never much cared for her, so he didn't ask to join me."

Jed nodded, pensively.

"I take it you're staying for the service?"

"Absolutely! I wouldn't miss it."

"Okay."

"Jed? Darling, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," Jed replied, quietly.

"You're happy here, aren't you?" Catherine inquired, skeptically.

Jed was startled by the question.

"Jed."

"Hmm?"

"I said, you're happy here, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He answered quickly- too quickly. "Yes, of course I'm happy here."

Catherine was not convinced, nor was she prepared to start an argument at that paricular time and in that paricular place.

"Good."

"We should probably get out there."

"Yeah."

Jed opened the door and gestured for his mother to exit before him.

"What's the sermon about today?" Catherine asked.

"Spiritual warfare."

"Angels and demons, and the like?"

"Yeah."

As they walked briskly through the hallways, they were stopped by Father Peter Derek, a man in his mid-forties, who had been at St. Andrew's for the entirety of his priesthood.

"Jed."

"Ah, Father Derek. I'd like you to meet my mother, Catherine Bartlet."

Catherine smiled cordially and held her hand out.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bartlet. Your son is a wonderful addition to our parish. We're so pleased to have him with us."

"Thank you very much, Father. That's very gratifying to hear."

"Jed, Father McDevitt asked me to see if you'd be willing to sit in the confessional this afternoon, following the service. Father Brewster is going to be otherwise engaged at that time."

"I'd be glad to, Peter."

"Good. I'll tell him. See you at the service."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Abbey Bennet stood just outside St. Andrew's church, with her head tilted up, intimidated by the church's sheer size and the magnitude of the spirit that lied within its stony white walls. Ron Erlich, her current boyfriend, waited just ahead of her, and looked back in an effort to see what she was seeing. When his eyes failed to discern what hers surely did, he called out to her. It was not until her younger sister, Michelle, elbowed her in the ribs that she reacted.

"Oh. Sorry."

She ran up to his side and linked her arm through his, trying to steal some of the strength and confidence he so obviously possessed and exhibited. They entered the church slowly, absorbing their surroundings. Abbey felt eye upon eye burning into her porcelain skin as she walked by each crowded pew. Incoherent whispers traveled to her ears, threatening to collapse the fortress of poise and composure she had struggled to uphold.

"Look, it's the Bennett girl, the middle one."

"That child hasn't been to church in years! Not since her mother died. Cancer. Poor dear."

"My daughter says that she and the Erlich boy have had premarital relations! Maybe even more than once!"

"Her poor father! And a widower at that!"

"I hear she wants to be a doctor! Can you imagine!"

Abbey held her head up high, took a deep breath, and plastered a fake, confident smile on her face.

"Abbey!" Nick Bennett called out to his daughter, in a voice that was soft, but loud for inside a place of worship. "Over here."

Abbey breathed a grateful sigh of relief and lead Ron into the pew where her father, sister, and step-mother sat.

"You all right, cookie?" Nick asked.

"Sure. Great. Couldn't be better."

Nick's suspicious gaze rested upon her for a moment before changing directions and focusing straight ahead, where Father McDevitt was about to begin his sermon.

Jed Bartlet sat not far from Father McDevitt, with Father Paul Norwood and Father Peter Derek. He surveyed the members of his congregation, with both awe and trepidation. He both adored and admired each parishioner, though, in truth, they made him nervous. Plagued with an omnipresent sense of self-doubt, Jed always wondered if he was good enough to hold the position he so embraced.

As he examined the people before him, his eyes fell upon a girl in the third row, who looked about twenty or so. She sat with who appeared to be her parents and siblings, who seemed thoroughly engrossed in the homily. But they didn't grasp his attention for long. He couldn't help but notice her indifferent expression. It was an almost melancholy look, filled with sorrow and perplexity. and it fascinated him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Father McDevitt speak of spiritual warfare, angels and demons. Jed wished the girl would listen to him, as he was certain she had some demons of her own to battle. 

After the service, the Bennett family stood outside the church, mingling and socializing with friends. Abbey was visibly anxious and taciturn, nervously wringing her hands and allowing her eyes to dart around the vicinity.

"Abbey, darling, we've missed seeing you around! Really, you must come to church more often," Joanna Moore said, grinning a little too broadly. 

"Oh, absolutely," Gracie Turner agreed, enthusiastically. "We never tire of seeing your lovely face around here."

"The child's a sight for sore eyes, Nick," Deborah Moran said, nudging him lightly.

"Oh, yeah," Nick replied, in a tone that was almost sarcastic. "She's a real doll. Aren't you, cookie?"

Abbey smiled uneasily and nodded.

"You know it, Daddy." 

"You really must come around more often, dear. We see so much of your sister, Michelle!"

"Yes, well, Chelly's got nothing better to do," Abbey responded, through clenched teeth. "Would you excuse me please?"

A bit startled by her latest comment, Joanna, Gracie, and Deborah nodded uncomfortably.

"Good." Abbey flashed them a false grin. "Daddy, I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Where are you off to?"

"Confession."

"Bless me father, for I have sinned."

The confessional was dark. So dark, she could barely see her own hands. She could feel the presence of the priest on the other side, just waiting to pounce on her with his righteousness, throwing Hail Mary's at her in hope that she would catch it and be absolved of all her sins. For the day at least.

"It has been…"

Her voice faltered and cracked, leaving almost untraceable hints of her past.

"Yes?" The priest spoke.

She swallowed and tried to summon up all the courage that dwelled somewhere inside her tiny body.

"It's been…"

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

His voice, to her utter surprise, was warm and inviting. Not at all like the cold, judgmental priests she had confessed her sins to in the past.

"It's been…three years. Three years since my last confession."

"Three years," the priest repeated, thoughtfully. "What has kept you away from God's house for so long?"

"Uh. Well, that's when…that's when my mother died. Three years ago."

"And so you stopped coming to church?"

"Yes," Abbey replied, softly.

"Why is that? Did you blame God for your mother's death?"

"Not so much blamed him as…distrusted him."

"I see. What has prompted you to return?"

"I don't know, honestly. For my dad's sake, I suppose. Should I be listing my sins now?"

"You can."

"Okay, well, I've…sworn at my boyfriend, my brother, my sisters, my best friend, and myself. And at…"

"At who?"

"At…oh, I'm gonna get about a hundred Hail Mary's for this one," she muttered under her breath. "At God."

"You swore at God."

"Yes," Abbey whispered.

"What was your reason for swearing at God?"

"You have to understand, Father, it's not that I…have anything against God really."

"Yet you swore at him," the priest replied, calmly.

"I was angry!"

"James 1:19-21 says, 'My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.'"

"Wish I'd had that one up my sleeve last night."

"Anything else you'd like to confess?"

"I've…taken the Lord's name in vain, probably a thousand times in the last three years. That's a couple of Our Father's right there. I've gossiped and I've lied."

"Okay. Let me ask you something. Do you know the Commandments?" The Priest asked.

"You're asking me if I know the Commandments."

"Yes."

"I'm Catholic, Father. I know my Commandments."

"Recite them to me."

"Oh, um…okay. In order?"

"If you can."

"Verbatim from Exodus 20. 'And God spoke all these words, saying: I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make yourself a graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them for I the Lord your God am a jealous God. You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you. You shall not kill. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife.' How'd I do"  
Father Josiah Bartlet smiled in the darkness and nodded to himself.

"You did well."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Why are you an atheist?"

Abbey Bennett had been asking her older brother this question for well over a year now. Not once had he given her a straight answer. But, she had returned home from church the day before with a new conviction, one not even Michael Bennett could outwit.

In fact, that Sunday had been a very eye-opening experience for her. She wasn't a changed woman or anything, but she was somehow different. A brighter light lit up her face, a more vibrant energy fueled her every movement, a broader smile commandeered her lips, and a happier tune sprung forth from her vocal chords. Everyone had noticed it, Michael especially.

Following confession, Abbey had sat in the church and done her penance. Hail Mary after Hail Mary, Our Father after Our Father until she was nearly blue in the face. The priest, however, had been quite lenient on her, or so she thought. She left the church feeling light and airy, completely burden-free.

But plagued with questions.

"Why are you an atheist, Michael?"

At the moment, Abbey did not consider herself God's biggest fan, but nor did she consider herself an enemy of His. She couldn't fathom how anyone could completely disregard the idea of God in and of itself.

"Why are you a Christian?" He replied.

"Because I believe in God. I'm not exactly writing Him fan mail everyday, but I believe in Him."

Michael seemed to accept this answer without a question, an unexpected reaction from an atheist.

"Then I'm an athiest because I don't believe in God."

That was not a sufficient answer, as far as Abbey was concerned. It was far too evasive, and far too much of a cop-out.

"That doesn't make any sense to me," she said. "I can understand not liking God, being angry at God, distrusting God, and even condemning God. But how can you not believe in Him?"

"I choose not to."

"You choose not to. Okay. What the hell does that mean?"

"I've gone through everyone you just said- not liking God, being angry at God, distrusting God, and what was the last thing?" Michael asked.

"Condemning God."

"And condemning God. After all of that, I finally decided that this so-called God we're supposed to believe in as Catholics doesn't exist if I can feel that way towards him. If I can condemn Him, He must not exist."

"Maybe it's because as of right now, you have a higher education than I do, but I'm not following you," Abbey admitted.

"That's because you believe in God. If you understood why I didn't, then you'd be an atheist too."

"Well, I think God is a sinner too. Does that make me an atheist?"

"No, but it makes you a really, really bad Catholic," Michael said, with a smirk. "Why do you think God is a sinner?"

"I don't think He's perfect, that's what I'm saying. I mean, He kills people. That's a sin. And He creates people who kill. That must be a sin.

"I sincerely hope you didn't share this theory with the priest in confession yesterday."

"What, and risk excommunication?"

Saturday night, nearly a week after her soon-to-become legendary appearance at church, was a particularly sleepless one for Abigail Bennett. Despite her best efforts, she could not escape thoughts of religion, God, church, and all related subjects. Her mind had been likewise occupied throughout the entire weeks. She was filled with questions, presumptions, doubts, confusion, among other things.

Her sleeplessness, on this night at least, was not put to waste. It was put to good use. That is, the moment her older sister, Julia, entered the house at 2:37 in the morning.

Abbey heard the door creak open and subsequently close all the way from her upstairs bedroom. Julia had never been very talented when it came to sneaking into the house late at night, and it had lead to quite a few consequences for her as a teenager. Abbey, however, had been a master. She had memorized every trick in the book, and could easily fool her parents into believing she had been tucked safely in bed all night long, when, in fact, she had been loitering around the parking lot after a Stones concert with her friends. Julia had not been quite so lucky.

As Julia quietly climbed up the stairs, with a very unsuccessful air of stealth, Abbey crawled out of bed, pulled her bathrobe on, and met her sister in the hallway. A clearly distracted Julia was more than startled by Abbey's presence and let out a slight yelp.

"Shh!" Abbey whispered, urgently. "Do you want to wake up Dad!"

She grabbed Julia's arm and yanked her, with considerable strength and force, into her room.

"Where have you been?"

"I'm almost twenty-five years old, Abbey, I'm not bound to a curfew anymore!" Julia replied, haughtily.

"Well, you don't go creeping around the house after two in the morning, Julia! What were you thinking? You're not even good at creeping!"

"Hey! I resent that."

"Face it, stealth is just not your strong suit," Abbey said. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"What, a girl can't visit her own family?"

"Not at two in the morning she can't!"

Julia avoided Abbey's gaze and walked over to the bed. She dropped her purse on the floor and sat on the bed, dejected. Abbey quickly moved to sit beside her, now concerned.

"What's wrong, Jul?" Abbey questioned.

"You can't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"I haven't told anyone else yet," Julia whispered.

"I won't tell anyone. What's the matter?"

"You're going to hate me."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Julia, I'm not going to hate you!" Abbey exclaimed.

"You're all into the Christian thing right now. You're not going to like this."

"All into the Christian thing?"

"Yeah," Julia said. "You know, going to church. You've been interrogating about God nonstop these past few days. I can't escape you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it bothered you," Abbey said, hurt.

"No, I don't mean it like that. I just mean…now, especially, you're going to want to kill me when I tell you this."

"Tell me what?"

"Your penniless, unmarried, grad school student sister is…"

"What?"

"Pregnant."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

A loud knock on her bedroom door jostled Abbey Bennett from her drowsy sleep. Her eyes shot open and she propped herself up on her elbows.

"Abbey!" Her father called.

"Yeah!"

Abbey glanced over and noticed her sister asleep on the floor beside her bed and shook her head in disbelief.

"Are you awake?" Nick asked.

"No, I'm sleep-talking, as I've been known to do from time to time," Abbey replied, sarcastically.

"You're lucky sarcasm suits you, Abigail. I'm coming in."

"No!" She shouted quickly. "Don't!"

"What's the matter?" Nick questioned, with alarm.

"I…I'm…I'm getting dressed!"

"Ah. Well, do you plan on coming to church with us this morning?"

"Uh…yes! Yes. I'll be there."

"Then you better get crackin', cookie, because we're leaving in about ten minutes. You know how Joanne likes to get there early."

Abbey glanced down at Julia again nervously.

"Why don't you leave me the keys to the Chevy and I'll meet you there, all right? I'll never make it in ten minutes. You know me."

"Don't be late now," Nick advised.

"I won't!"

Abbey waited until the sound of her father's footsteps faded before tossing a pillow down onto Julia's head. Julia immediately jumped, rudely awakened from her peaceful slumber.

"What the hell!"

"Wake up!" Abbey ordered.

"I'm up, I'm up, what's going on?"

They both jumped when Nick returned and knocked on Abbey's bedroom door yet again.

"Abbey?"

"Yes, Dad?" Abbey replied, with an audible sigh.

"I want you to be careful driving the Chevy."

"Okay, Dad."

"I mean it, it's been acting up lately," Nick said.

"Okay, Dad. I hear you."

"Drive slowly, and don't make any sharp turns. I know the way you drive, young lady."

"Dad! I hear you. I'll be fine," Abbey insisted.

"Good."

Again, Abbey and Julia waited until the sound of footsteps faded before continuing their conversation.

"God," Julia muttered. "If I wanted to drive the Chevy, he'd say 'sure, no problem, go right ahead,' without a word of warning."

"Oh, shut up. No, he wouldn't."

"Uh huh."

"Now come on, let's get ready for church," Abbey said, crawling out of bed finally.

"What? No, no, no, no. No way."

"Julia, please!"

"You're my sister and I love you to pieces, but there is no way you're getting me inside that church."

After she parked the Chevy in the church parking lot, Abbey scurried over to the other side of the car and peeled Julia off the passenger seat and out of the car. Julia made her body go limp, making Abbey's job much more difficult.

"I swear on the holy bible, Julia Marie, if you don't get out of this car…"

"You just swore on the holy bible outside God's house!" Julia cried out with amusement.

"Yeah, yeah. Out of the car, missy."

Julia unwillingly stood up on her own and smoothed out her dress. Abbey stood before her, with her hands placed firmly on her hips, waiting for her.

"I'd really like to get in there sometime before Jesus returns for his faithful flock, so, if you wouldn't mind…"

"All right, all right. Take it easy, Mary Magdalene, we're going."

Abbey grabbed her sister's arm and proceeded to drag her toward the church with a vengeance. Julia struggled to keep with her up and wriggled from her grasp.

"Hurry up!" Abbey demanded.

"Abbey."

"What?"

Julia continued to jog after her.

"Abbey, slow down, I can't run in these heels."

Abbey complied and slowed her pace until she walked in step with Julia.

"I'm gonna tell him now," Julia announced.

"Excuse me?"

"Dad. I'm gonna tell him when we get inside."

Abbey stopped dead in her tracks and, with a hand on Julia's arm, stopped her as well.

"You are not gonna tell Dad right now, Julia."

"Yes, I am!"

"He's going to throw enough of a fit as it is, we don't need it to be in front of the entire congregation!" Abbey exclaimed.

"He'll keep quiet if we're in church. He won't want to make a scene, so he'll just have to sit there silently until after the service. That's why I want to do it now."

"Are you out of your mind! Dad could care less who sees him flip his lid! Which is why we have to care for him."

"Oh, come on. It's not going to be that bad," Julia replied.

"I'm sorry, have you ever met Dad?"

"Abbey…"

"The minute he finds out his unmarried, unbetrothed, and clearly unwise daughter is pregnant out of wedlock, he is going to lose it! Julia, you are NOT telling him right now!"

Julia nodded wordlessly in concession.

"Okay."

Surprised at her sister's sudden acceptance of her argument, Abbey smiled uneasily.

"Okay."

"But I'm telling him after dinner tonight," Julia stated.

"Fine. Don't forget about the church picnic after the service today."

Julia's face fell.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"All you have to do is smile, nod, mingle, and eat. I'm sure you can manage that," Abbey replied.

"I'll get you back for this."

"I'm shakin' in my heels, tough girl. Let's go."

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."

He recognized her voice instantly. He stared through the screen, trying desperately to see her face. But it was no use. He would have to settle for the voice, which, admittedly, was no small thing.

"Go on," he said.

Jed could hear her hesitate and almost visualize her biting her bottom lip nervously. She shook a deep breath before speaking and even then, she paused.

"My sister is pregnant," Abbey whispered. "She's twenty-five and in graduate school. And she's unmarried."

"Wouldn't that be considered your sister's sin rather than your own?"

"Yes, but…I encouraged her."

"You encouraged her?" Jed questioned, incredulously.

"No, no. I mean, I didn't…encourage her to get pregnant. I comforted her when she told me she was, and I support her."

"It is still your sister's sin. By supporting her, you're behaving as family should."

"I suppose," she replied. "But I still feel as if I've done something wrong."

"You haven't."

She smiled inwardly to herself, not as if he could see her anyway, before continuing.

"Do you have anything else you would like to confess?" He asked her.

"Well," Abbey answered, with a smirk she knew he wouldn't see. "I swore on the holy bible outside of God's house."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Following the Sunday service, the congregation gathered in the spacious church yard. Maneuvering around the picnic tables and the buffet they had all contributed to, the faithful churchgoers mingled and mixed. They used this special time at their monthly picnic to catch up on the latest events and happenings in each other's lives, swap stories about their latest witnessing and/or religious epiphanies. If certain members weren't able to attend, they were inquired after and homemade chicken noodle soup was made for those who were ill. It was also a time for these so-called good Christian women to commit the ever-popular sin of gossip. If God had presented his on-earth disciples, the parish's beloved priests, with a poll asking them which sin was most often confessed by their flock, the answer would indubitably be a unanimous "gossip."

Abigail Bennett had often been the center of said gossip. Following the death of her mother nearly four years earlier, The Women pitied her. When she did not follow their approved pattern of handling grief, they abandoned her. Abbey had not adhered to the rules of grieving, as far as they were concerned. In their ignorant minds, she had not recovered. Instead, she had rebelled. If she had been asked, and she hadn't been, she would have told them that she had no plan to recover. She was perfectly fine to mourn her mother for the rest of her life, and she would do it the way she wanted to. Abbey was never one to conform to the restrictions of society.

The Women expressed, to themselves of course, their aversion to Abbey's taste in men. Specifically, the amount of men she seemed to consort with, as it exceeded by far the amount they alotted for their own daughters. They couldn't, not for the life of them, understand why Nick Bennett hadn't involved himself more in her romantic affairs. In the last three years, Abbey had had a whopping four boyfriends, upsetting by three the number they themselves preferred. Her current boyfriend was a Women-approved suitor and they prided themselves on this. Nick and Joanne Bennett had informed the Women that Abbey was now dating Ron Erlich and their faces had lit up like Christmas trees.

Ron Erlich was a good Christian boy. His parents had belonged to the church for years, and had even been married by Father McDevitt. Ron was the Women's little darling. In fact, they had been trying to set him up with Abbey for years, but she had always been busy with Scott Griffith, Steve Reeseman, and David Lowry. The Women had big plans for Ron and Abbey. They were going to have a mid-spring wedding at the church, and they reception would be held at the Bennetts' estate in Andover. Their honeymoon would be enjoyed in the Bahamas, or Hawaii if they so chose, and then they were to live happily ever after in a house with a white pickett fence and five happy, healthy, bouncing children. In this nonsensical reverie, Ron was a successful lawyer who would eventually make partner at Andover's foremost law firm, Smith, Smith, and Whitney. Abbey was to become an ecstatic little homemaker, who enjoyed cooking, cleaning, gardening, and shopping for little nick nacks to place stragetically about the house.

The Women were delusional.

Nick and Joanne Bennett made an admirable effort to avoid The Women and were, for the most part, successful in this venture. Michelle was encircled by a group of her friends from Sunday school, and Julia was surrounded by a group of girls she had once called her friends. She knew it was likely that they now talked about her behind her back, but when she was around, they were all hearts and flowers. Bored though she may have been throughout their entire conversation, she didn't dare try to escape from them, as she was certain it would lead to nothing but further agony. When Nick caught a glimpse of Abbey mingling, her usual grin plastered to her face, he waved her over.

"Abbey! Honey, come here. There's someone I'd like you to meet. Assuming that you haven't met already."

Abbey jogged over to them, and smiled cordially at Father McDevitt, Father Norwood, and another man of the cloth she did not, indeed, find herself familiar with.

"How are you, Abbey?" Father McDevitt asked.

"Oh, I'm fine, Father, thank you."

"Abbey, I'm not sure you've met Father Bartlet," Nick said.

"No, I haven't. It's a pleasure to meet you, Father Bartlet," Abbey replied.

Jed felt his knees go weak and knew all the color was draining from his face.

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Bennett."

"Abbey," she insisted.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Abbey."

"Abbey's a student at Amherst," Father McDevitt offered.

Abbey looked down at her shoes, allowing her hair to fall and cover her face.

"Abbey," Nick said, laughing heartily. "It's not like you to be shy like this."

She immediately looked up again.

"I'm not. I thought I saw a…bug."

Nick raised both eyebrows in a suspicious amusement.

"A bug?"

"Mmm-hmm. Crawling on my shoe. It was…you know."

"Non-existent?" Nick replied.

Joanne used that opportunity to jab her husband in the ribs with her elbow, an act she never tired of engaging in.

"Anyway," Abbey said, nervously. "It's gone now."

"Well, good," Nick said.

Though he immediately regretted it, Jed tried to make her feel at ease by adding, "I'm not much of a bug fan myself."

This remark garnered confused glances from both Father McDevitt and Father Norwood. Luckily, it garnered a smile from Abbey.

"I like butterflies," Abbey said, observing him carefully.

"Sure. Butterflies. Almost as likeable as ladybugs," Jed responded.

"I'm not so much fond of caterpillars though."

"No, I'm with you there. Never saw the fascination with them personally."

By this time, all the other innocent bystanders had begun to feel, much like the imaginary insect that had attacked Abbey's shoe, rather non-existent.

"Well," Father McDevitt said. "I've just noticed Mrs. Gill over there. I'm just going to go see how she's feeling this afternoon. She had taken ill last week."

Father Norwood nodded in accordance.

"I'll join you."

"And I think we'll go see what Michelle is up to," Nick said, on his and Joanne's behalf.

"Okay," Abbey said.

"Nice talking with you, Father," Nick said to Jed.

"Likewise."

The realization that they were now standing together alone hit Jed and Abbey a few seconds after Nick and Joanne took their leave.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

AN: Thanks for Regency for co-writing this chapter.

The realization that they were now standing together alone hit Jed and Abbey a few seconds after Nick and Joanne took their leave.

"So."

"So."

"So you like ladybugs?" She asked.

"Mmmyeah," he replied with both his mouth and eyebrows.

Looking at her had become more than a little uncomfortable now that they were alone.

"This conversation hit the rocks pretty fast."

Jed's face split into a grin.

"I noticed."

"Why do you think that is?"

"You tell me." 

He'd spoken to her via the faceless anonymity of the confession chamber, but he longed for that same openness in the light of day. He wanted to see her face turned in expression and watch her gesture gracefully with her hands. She was something of a fascination to him. He wondered whether or not that was wrong.

She pondered audibly, pursing her lips and twining her finger together in front of her. "Perhaps, it's because you're a man of the faith I've only days ago returned to."

"Perhaps it is." Jed began to walk away from the gathering, his hands unobtrusively stuffed in his pockets. She felt compelled to follow. "I hope that doesn't mean the conversation can't be salvaged."

Abbey looked sideways at him, mystified that he was seeking her company. "I think it can."

"Wonderful, then. What'll we talk about?"

Silence trickled into the space between them as they strolled farther from the picnic into the green expanse ahead. Despite the grass, Abbey clearly saw rocks. The thought made her laugh out loud.

He raised his brows at her quizzically. "Something funny?" She touched her fingers to her lips, nodding. She didn't elaborate further, though he waited.

"I like to laugh, too," he prodded.

She gave in reluctantly. "I see rocks."

His grin, which she thought could grow no wider, did in fact widen and was accompanied by a chuckle much bigger than the man from whence it came. You wouldn't know it, but Father Bartlet had a glorious laugh and it had the oddest effect on her. Her skin tingled. His square shoulders settled as his laughter abated and he held his heaving chest with a weary smile.

"I think we've escaped them this once."

"I agree."

They wandered the mostly flat plain en route to the lake nearby. There they would talk. About what, they weren't certain. But they'd surely come to some conclusion by then.

"Who are you, Father?"

Jed looked at her, surprised both by her tone and by her question. "Who am I," he repeated. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean."

"I mean, you're so young…and something else I can't put my finger on. If I didn't know you I wouldn't believe you were a priest."

He stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes somewhat defensively. "You're saying I'm not priestly enough."

Abbey realized immediately that she'd insulted him. "Of course not, Father. That's not what I was saying at all."

"Then what are you saying, Abigail?"

Not easily cowed, Abbey felt shrunken beneath withering gaze. It wasn't necessarily a glare nor necessarily directed at her. But it did contain swift, hard emotions she was in no position to understand.

"I'm just saying you seem so vibrant and in-touch. It's not a stretch to imagine you teaching in a class or acting in a movie. I wanted to know why you chose this profession above the rest," she finished in a low voic.

Knowing that he was still looking at her with some semblance of a glower, he eased up, rolling his shoulders casually and counting silently from ten. It wasn't like him to lose his temper. Not with a member of his flock. Especially not with a member with whome he wished to build a strong spiritual relationship.

He pulled his mouth from its tense frown and tried for a faint smile. "It was less of a choice than a calling." He began to walk again.

More hesitantly than before, Abbey retook her place beside him to continue their stroll. "A calling?"

"Something I had to do. From an early age, I was fascinated by the Bible. Both its complexity and explicitness. I was steadied by its vow of unwavering devotion. And I thought, I can show that kind of loyalty to God. I can be forgiving and unselfish. It's only come to my attention lately that I was seeking to be God, not serve him."

"How did that make you feel?"

He was starting to think their roles had reversed. He was now the confessor. "In one way blasphemous. In a larger way, relieved."

She was surprised to hear it. "Why relieved?"

"Because that meant that I was allowed to be selfish -- and believe me, I sometimes am. I was allowed to be conservative with my personal redemption. I was allowed to falter."

They came at last to the grassy shore of the church's lake. A group of large water-worn rocks sat on the precipice of land and water, offering a convenient place for their talk to rest. He gestured for her to sit first, then filled the place beside her.

"Strong men falter, Father. Stronger men expect to someday."

"What does that make me," he asked of her honestly.

"Strong either way."

He accepted the compliment with no small amount suspicion. Not that he doubted Abigail's veracity. From their initial meeting, she had appeared genuine. But he questioned whether she meant to get back on his good side.

"I like your honesty," he conceded.

"And I like your sweater vest," she returned, hoping to lighten the serious conversation.

He looked quickly at her again, once again foiled by her words. She was one random moment after another. "Thank you. My mother made it for me."

She saddened a little then. It was the homemade things she missed most. "You're very lucky to have her." She blinked away unexpected moisture in her eyes.

"And you were lucky to have your mother."

She looked at him silently before looking up to sky. The clear day has taken a overcast tint and her eyes do fill with moisture against her wishes. Only it isn't tears. It's rain.

Large droplets of water came down, immediately matting both her and Jed's hair to their heads That was the end of their conversation. They bolted from the rocks, running with only a vague direction in mind. It wasn't long before air in front of them became foggy and hearing was futile. The only thing keeping Abbey oriented was Jed's hand wrapped securely around hers.

Somewhere on this weather-drenched earth was a picnic full of people who'd be waiting for them and worrying. And most likely giving shelter to those people, was their church. Remembering that church reminded her that he could not make her skin tingle. He was a priest, her priest.

It had to be the rain.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Now more than ever, Father Jed Bartlet found himself taking on more responsibilities at the church. Father McDevitt had become consistent about asking for Jed's opinions on sermons and the like and, as his colleagues grew more and more fond of him, he began to earn their trust. For the first time in his young life, Jed felt as if he belonged somewhere. He was at peace with these people. He understood them, and they him. It was a situation unlike any he had ever been in before. A knock on the door jarred him out of his concentrated state as he was reviewing Father McDevitt upcoming sermon. He lifted his eyes from the piece of paper in front of him and, with his voice, granted entry to whoever waited outside. It was Father McDevitt himself, making his rounds as he often did at the end of the day.

"Good evening, Father," Jed said, standing to greet him.

"Sit, sit," Father McDevitt insisted.

Together, they sat in two adjacent chairs in the corner of the relatively small room.

"How do you like the sermon?"

"So far, it's flawless. I have a few paragraphs left."

"Good, good. You know your input is important to me, Jed."

"Thank you, Father. That means a lot."

"That said, I've come here with something else on my mind," Father McDevitt said.

"What can I do for you?" Jed asked.

"My powers of observation have been acutely honed over the years and, contrary to popular belief, I am able to detect often the subtlest of things. With these tremendous powers of observation, I have noticed that you seemed to be getting on with our own Abbey Bennett remarkably well."

Jed nodded calmly, but inside, his mind was racing with fear. Was it somehow unacceptable for a priest to take a walk with a parishioner at a church picnic? Was it considered sacrilege to have a twenty-minute conversation with one after a service? Maybe it was only considered improper if the churchgoer in question happened to be young and more than moderately attractive.

"Yes, she's a…very interesting person," he replied nervously.

"That she is. She is a delightful young woman. But more than that, she is a hopelessly misguided young woman. Ever since the tragic death of her mother a few years back, she has distanced herself from the church. While we are enormously thrilled that she has returned to us, at the same time, we continued to be very concerned about her. It occurs to me that, because you two are so close in age and also because she seems to have taken to you, you would be the perfect mentor for her. Don't worry now, it's a fairly simple task. Essentially, you would just need to keep doing what you're doing. Does that sound like something you could handle?"

Are you kidding! He wanted exclaimed.

Instead, he said, "Absolutely, Father. I'd be glad to."

"Wonderful. I'm so pleased to hear that."

"Anything I can do to help, Father."

Father McDevitt smiled and patted the younger man lightly on the knee.

"You're going to go far here at St. Andrews, Jed. Just you wait."

In the backseat of her father's Chevrolet, Abbey Bennett could not stop fidgeting. She tapped her high heels against the floor of the car anxiously and began wringing her hands. When, after a few more minutes of impatient waiting, no one came out to join her, she leaned up to the front seat and pushed down on the horn in the middle of the steering wheel. Twenty seconds later, her father, step-mother, and younger sister came bolting out of the house. The latter hopped into the backseat beside Abbey while their parents took their places in the front seats.

"My, we are impatient this morning," Joanne commented, breezily.

Abbey folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against her seat.

"I don't want to be late, that's all." She glanced up at her father, who didn't even have his hands on the steering wheel. "Go!"

"Calm yourself, child," Nick said, raising an eyebrow when he glanced back at her. "We're waiting for Julia."

"Julia's coming!"

"Poor girl thinks the wrath of God is upon her," Joanne replied.

Nick scowled.

"The wrath of God IS upon her."

"Only because you put it there, darling."

Nick chose to ignore his wife's latest statement and instead turned his attention to his middle daughter.

"Oh, by the way, Abbey, Ron phoned while you were in the shower this morning. He was called into work last minute. He won't be able to make it to church."

It was all Abbey could to do keep herself from smiling.

"Oh, no."

Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Like you really care," she scoffed. "Abbey will just bide her time with Father Bartlet. Won't you, Abbey?"

Abbey shot a menacing glare at her little sister.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Curious and intrigued, Joanne turned around to face her step-daughters.

"Yeah, what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Michelle began with a wicked grin. "That Abbey's got a crush on Father Bartlet!"

"Michelle Lynn!" Nick exclaimed just as Abbey jabbed her in the ribs.

"Shut up, you little twerp."

At that moment, Julia opened the car door and hopped in the backseat, pushing Abbey into the middle.

"Did you just call her a twerp?" Julia asked with amusement.

"Abbey has a crush on Father Bartlet," Michelle announced to her oldest sister who had just joined the conversation.

Julia's jaw dropped as she regarded her sister with astonishment. Abbey rolled her eyes.

"Don't listen to her."

"Abigail Bennett, that is worse than having a crush on a professor!" Julia exclaimed.

"It's not true!" Abbey insisted.

"My God, a priest!"

"That's enough!" Nick bellowed as he put the car into reverse and began backing out of the driveway. "I won't have any more of this talk in my car." 

"Oh, lighten up, Dad," Julia said.

"And you, Julia, are in no position to give me orders considering the compromising position you've gotten yourself into."

"Leave her alone, Nick," Joanne said. "I swear, I have never seen you so uptight."

"That's because none of my daughters have ever gotten pregnant out of wedlock before!"

"Fair point."

Abbey groaned.

"Can't this car go any faster?"

After the service, Jed picked Abbey out in the crowd and approached her. Feeling vindicated after Father McDevitt's request, he took her for a leisurely walk around the church grounds.

"So, how did you like the sermon today?" He asked.

"It was interesting," Abbey replied, thoughtfully. "I've always found that witnessing isn't really my strong suit."

"Why is that?"

"I don't like the idea of pressing my ideas upon others. It's like politics. It's no use trying to convert a Republican into a Democrat. Unfortunately."

"But it happens."

"Hardly ever."

"If you care about someone, isn't it important to you that they secure themselves a place in Heaven, so to speak?" Jed questioned

"Well, yeah, but I feel like religion is something people have to discover on their own in order for it to be honest and heartfelt. I don't think anyone should accept Jesus as their savior just because they're scared to death of going to hell. That's not how it should be."

"Yes, but, as it says in Romans 10:14, 'how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard?'"

"Oh, come on, this isn't the Middle Ages. There's not a person in the world who doesn't know who Jesus is and what his purpose is. It's not like I'm going to walk up to someone and say, 'Hey, ever heard of Jesus? He died for your sins! Isn't that cool?' Get real."

Jed laughed, despite himself, causing her to laugh as well.

"I know you know what I mean, Father Bartlet."

"I do see where you're coming from, yes."

"And anyway, most of the people at this church are about as religious as Mary Magdalene," Abbey commented.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying they all go home and worship Elvis Presley, take God's name in vain, talk back to their parents, steal their sister's new sweater, lie until they're blue in the face, and covet the hell out of their neighbor's wife. Everyone goes to church because they feel like they have to."

"Is that why you go to church?"

Abbey shrugged.

"Sometimes."

"And other times?"

"I don't know, curiosity, I guess. It helps my experiments."

Jed raised an eyebrow at her.

"Your experiments?"

"Yeah. For instance, one week I'll pray and ask God to let this be a spectacular, amazing, over-the-moon kind of week. And the next week, I won't. Then I compare the two weeks and see which one was better."

"Really?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Really. Let's just call it testing my faith."

"That's one way to look at it."

She let out an sudden, infectious laugh that showed off her completely enchanting smile. He was captivated by her for a moment, until the laughter subsided and she began focusing on her shoes, embarassed. He did the same, though for an entirely different reason.

They started the trek back to the main church house, the conversation abruptly becoming much more casual and impersonal. The remainder of the congregation was gathering outside, mingling as they always did following a Sunday morning service. Jed and Abbey approached her father, who was standing in a group with several other older men.

"Abbey! There you are. Julia is out looking for you as we speak," Nick said. "And you've brought Father Bartlet with you. How are you, Father?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," Jed replied, like a schoolboy who had just been introduced to his girlfriend's father.

"You've been at the church for, what, five or six months now?"

"Somewhere around there."

"I think it's about time we had Father Bartlet over for dinner. What do you think, cookie?" He asked Abbey.

Abbey hesitated before responding.

"Sure, absolutely."

"Excellent. How's Wednesday night at six for you, Father?" Nick questioned.

"Sounds…perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome anytime. Anytime at all."

"Well." Jed fidgeted nervously. "I'd better get back inside. It was nice talking with you all."

"Bye, Father," Abbey responded, distractedly.

"We'll see you Wednesday, Father! Six sharp!"


End file.
